Afternoon Delight
by alicegrey123
Summary: Elijah arrives at Rebekah's, unaware that Elena has moved in. Slightly dark oneshot, set between 4x18 and 4x19. M for a reason.


A shadow falls over her bare legs and Elena peers disapprovingly over her sunglasses. "You're in my sun," she says with a frown, the slightest hint of a pout on her face.

"You're _here_," Elijah counters. "Where's Rebekah?"

"At school," Elena replies breezily, returning her attention to the gossip rag in her lap.

Elijah raises a sceptical eyebrow. "And she left you in her house?"

His tone makes her wonder if she's unknowingly become the type of person who breaks into people's houses just to sunbathe in their back yards. "_Our_ house," Elena corrects, pushing her sunglasses to rest on the top of her head.

In spite of himself, Elijah's gaze sweeps over Elena's exposed body. Her microscopically tiny, lime green bikini just about covers what it should, leaving her tanned legs and toned abdomen on display for his hungry eyes.

Her legs are stretched out in front of her, one flat to the outdoor day-bed on which she lounges and the other bent at the knee. Her toenails are painted a vibrant purple, contrasting delightfully with the colour of her bikini and emphasising her naturally olive skin, and she wears a thin silver toe ring on the middle toe of her left foot.

Her breasts seem slightly larger, he thinks, careful not to stare too long at her figure for propriety's sake. Her waist is thinner, the curve of her hips more pronounced, her muscles infinitely more defined. Even her hair is different, thicker, more unruly, and the red streak that he had complimented only a week ago stands out against her coffee curls.

He doesn't recall the Elena Gilbert that he had known being _anything_ like this Amazonian goddess in front of him. The woman in front of him oozes sensuality, perfectly comfortable in her own skin; the awkward teenager in his memories would have reached for her towel as soon as she'd noticed his presence.

Since when were her legs so goddamn long?

She catches him looking at her, of course, and evenly meets his eyes. He thinks elements of this particular change in her personality might be attributed to her walled-off emotions, but the way she tilts her head and stares right back at him with heavily-lidded eyes seems like such a natural response that it makes him wonder if she had always been confident and impulsive underneath. She has changed a great deal in the six months since his departure from Mystic Falls; he isn't sure if the alterations to her figure are solely due to her recent transition into vampirism, but he isn't going to complain.

Elijah might be honourable, but he is still a man who is able to appreciate such a delicious example of femininity.

"You're living here now?" He asks her, lifting her calves so that he can sit on the edge of the day bed.

Elena raises an eyebrow and then settles her legs over him, neither knowing nor caring that she's getting tanning oil on his expensive suit. "I'm homeless," she supplies cheerfully, reaching for her Long Island Iced Tea and taking a long sip.

Elijah swallows as Elena makes an appreciative hum at the taste.

"I guess Rebekah and me are sort of friends now," Elena continues, "Considering that she's the only person that can tolerate me and I'm the only person who she can be herself around."

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" he manages, clinging to his remaining self control. How has she managed to do this to him? One bat of her eyelashes and he feels like putty in her hands. It makes him angry, both at her and at himself.

Elena smiles. "Seriously? You're playing the protective older brother, now? I'm a little rusty with the whole parental guidance thing."

Elijah shakes his head, ignoring her incredulity. "Why exactly are you homeless?"

"Oh, you know, because an immortal seventeen year old mass murderer and his horndog megalomaniac older brother insist on judging me for my life choices," she replies with a carefree shrug.

He can't really argue with her logic. "Do they know you're here?"

Elena shrugs. "Don't know, don't care."

"And what happens when they find out?" Elijah wonders, "No doubt they'll be upset."

"They're already upset," she counters, "They don't like me this way. They want to fix me."

"And you?"

"I don't particularly want to be fixed." Elena shifts into a sitting position and she scoots slightly closer to him. "Stefan wants me to be the vulnerable little girl that I was the first day that we met. He wants me to write in my journal and stay home on Saturday nights watching eighties movies. The problem with that is that I've never _been _a vulnerable little girl. My parents died before I met Stefan – I was still grieving when we met. My bereavement counsellor said I should keep a journal, document my feelings." Her face wrinkled with distaste. "I wasn't myself. I used to be the most popular girl in school. I was on the cheerleading squad; my boyfriend was the quarterback of the football team. I was carefree and happy, back then. The person I am now is closer to that girl than the Elena that Stefan loves."

Elijah considers this, unconsciously pivoting himself towards her. "And the elder Salvatore, what does he think?"

"Damon wants me to be Katherine," she says bluntly. "He wants me to be like her, ruthless and sexy and mean, but he wants me to love him back. I can't do both."

"You could never be Katherine," Elijah assures her, "You're different."

She laughs mirthlessly, taking another drink from her cocktail. "Am I like Tatia, then?" she seems almost proud of her viciousness, happy to have bested him in this small way. "You have experience with them both, don't you?"

His jaw clenches at her sardonic reply, his eyes flashing in warning. "Be very careful, Elena."

He means it. She can see in his eyes just how _much _he means it.

But she pushes him anyway. "I bet you'd love to have all three of us," she taunts, "The whole set. Or are you too hopelessly in love with my evil twin to want little old me?"

He glares at her, well aware that she is purposely trying to bait him. And then he smirks, twisting around on the daybed to face her. "Are you _jealous_, Miss Gilbert?"

He expects her to deny it, to throw it back at him that she doesn't _care_ enough to be envious, but she doesn't. Instead, she smiles bitterly. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired of playing with her broken toys. Maybe I want something new and shiny that isn't tainted by _her_."

She seems taken aback by her honest reply, surprised that one of her more prominent emotions has managed to leak through the barrier that constrains her feelings.

He responds in kind, rewarding her for her openness with his own truthful confession. "Katherine was never my lover, Elena. She never has been."

Elena shakes her head. "You kissed her in Willoughby," she points out, "You wanted her, you _said-"_

"Do you honestly believe that I would be fooled by a pair of shoes and a leather jacket?" Elijah questions derivatively, "I knew that it was you from thirty feet away. Give me a little credit, Elena."

She wants to blush at her own naivety. "But you kissed me-"

"Yes," Elijah agrees, sounding more anxious than she has ever heard him, "I kissed _you_."

Neither of them are immune to the sudden tension that springs up between them. Elijah reaches for his collar, undoing a second button to allow some air onto his chest. Elena lowers her gaze and inhales deeply, slowly dragging her bottom lip through her teeth until she finally looks under her lashes up to meet his eyes.

He doesn't speak, only watching as she pulls her hair into a topknot and secures it with an elastic from around her wrist. The action brings her torso closer to his, her momentarily arched back thrusting out her chest, and Elijah cannot help but glance down at her cleavage. He hears her slow heartbeat quicken in response and feels glad that she is not as unaffected as she pretends to be.

"You're not Katherine," Elijah repeats softly, "I see you; you're _Elena."_

A moment passes between them, and then his hands are clutching at her waist, all semblance of calm gone as his mouth slants feverishly over hers.

Without breaking the kiss, Elena straddles his lap, her knees resting at either side of his thighs. Her hands push his suit jacket from his shoulders and he tosses it carelessly away, reaching for the tie of her bikini at the back of her neck just as she untucks his shirt from his trousers.

Elijah pulls at the strings that hold her bikini closed, feeling the garment slacken deliciously. Her hands fumble with his shirt buttons, and he can see the restraint in her eyes. She wants to tear it away from him, to feel his naked torso beneath her fingertips, but Elena methodically pops open each button, taking her time with the task. It takes her less than a minute but it feels like an age, and though he is pleased by her self control, his own mindset is entirely too desperate to return her sentiments.

He rips his arms out of the sleeves, relishing in her gasp of pleasure when he closes the space between their chests, his fingers splaying on her back to hold her close.

Elijah's mouth leaves hers, descending on her neck. She moans in his ear when his blunt teeth nip at the skin covering her jugular, grinding her hips against him helplessly at the sensation. Feeling his growing erection pressed against her centre, Elena shifts and locks her ankles behind his back. He groans against her skin, uncaringly ripping at the bikini strings at her hips. She feels his naked length suddenly press against her core and lowers her body onto his, setting a torturously slow pace that he soon overrides with his own passion, stealing her breath and bruising her skin with his rough caresses. He makes her feel mouth-wateringly full, as if he had been made exactly for her. She chases that thought away before it can linger.

She doesn't need him to be loving and tender and he offers neither, utterly dominating her body with his own in a way that has her crying out for more. He pushes her and she pushes back, always taking more than he will allow her to give in return.

He isn't at all gentle and she revels in it, loving how he isn't afraid to break her.

Elijah doesn't touch her as if she is some reverent being. He doesn't murmur sweet nothings in her ear. He doesn't confess his love for her when they reach a mutual height of explosive pleasure, tumbling into the abyss together with his teeth piercing her neck at the pinnacle of his orgasm. Elena mewls at the feel of his fangs, her own ecstasy prolonged by the dual sensation. It is rough and rushed and inexplicably _right_.

She thinks she could get used to it.

...

Afterwards, he suckles at the mark on her neck, unwilling to allow her skin to heal. Her blood is quite possibly the best thing he's ever tasted, and the dark bruise beneath the bite does funny things to his insides. To see her _marked_ by his mouth is enough to make him want her again.

Elena unlocks her legs from his waist and allows him to lie down, lying beside him in a comfortable silence. He combs through her hair with his fingertips and she all but purrs at the feeling, a lazy smile on her face as she trails her fingers down his torso. Her emotions rattle in their cage, demanding her to feel; she ignores it, leaning over to press a burning kiss against his lips.

Elijah returns the embrace, urging her without words for more.

Their second tryst is explorative; she learns how to please him, how to make him mindless with pleasure, how to reduce the powerful Original to a man desperate for release. He allows her this rare moment of power, enjoying the feeling of her mouth on his body, and then reverses their positions.

Elijah kisses a path down her abdomen, teasing her breasts with his tongue and teeth, raising gooseflesh on her stomach when his mouth moves lower.

He appreciates her need for control, but will not permit her to manipulate her sensuality to gain leverage over him. He has always been attracted to the lovely Elena Gilbert and had, of course, always been aware of the bizarre sexual tension between the two.

But this is a woman who has daggered him and lied to him and sought to best him numerous times, and though he feels _something _for her, he is unwilling to explore such feelings whilst she remains emotionless and untouchable – at least, not in these circumstances. She is not Katherine Pierce, nor does he want her to be, but she is not entirely _Elena, _either, and he cannot ignore that.

Sex, however, he will acquiesce to. She is above the age of consent, mature enough to know what she wants.

It takes him exactly one minute to establish his complete authority over her body, playing her like a finely tuned instrument. She sobs and begs and _pleads_ for his touch, his mouth, _anything_, and he complies, watching as she flies apart with an immensely satisfied expression on his face. He moves over her, his erection renewed, folding her legs over her torso and teasing her core with his masterful fingers until thrusting himself into her without warning.

She cries out at the feel of him, her demands for more proven unnecessary as he sets a punishing rhythm that makes her toes curl. Elijah smiles darkly as her eyes roll back, forcing her to walk the line between pleasure and pain. He shoves her towards orgasm, all but demanding she come, and when she does he rewards her with a kiss. Having allowed her to ride out her pleasure, Elijah lies back, pulling her atop him. His hands on her hips set the pace, grinding her pubic bone against his with every movement, and when his thumb vibrates against the sensitive pearl at the apex of her thighs, she is lost.

Elena collapses against his chest, all but exhausted and feeling incredibly sensitive, and Elijah rolls them over, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder. She half-heartedly protests, but his expertise wins out, and he manages to pull another orgasm out of her before his own overcomes him.

...

Elijah finds that he cannot get enough of her.

He takes Elena several times more that day; in the kitchen, in the shower, in her bedroom, and then quickly in Rebekah's living room, fifteen minutes before the blonde is due to return from school. In between their encounters, they discuss everything and nothing, and Elijah is pleasantly surprised to find that the Elena he knows is much closer to the surface than he had first thought.

She tells him about the sire bond, about her encounter with Damon and the way he was able to unknowingly manipulate her. And then she reveals how the sire bond had been used to 'switch off' her emotions, and Elijah's face becomes stony.

He is disgusted with Damon; he tells her so. She shrugs in response.

Elena calmly manages to explain that she can still _feel. _To prove this point, she allows him to make slow and passionate love to her in her bed, maintaining eye contact with him throughout; the entire thing is almost unbearably sweet, and he has to wonder if she is simply a brilliant actress or if their connection genuinely runs deeper than her emotions will acknowledge.

She talks and he listens, mostly in silence. Elena tells him about the people she has killed and the ways in which she killed them. He thinks she is trying to shock him into leaving her, into saying that she truly is a monster, but he doesn't. Instead, Elijah recalls the people that _he _has killed, explaining that death is an unavoidable part of life that everyone has to deal with eventually. He doesn't try to placate her, nor does he try to outdo her tales of bloodshed with his own. He is simply honest; reassuring her that he will be there should she need him, encouraging her to exercise control but understanding that his words may fall on deaf ears.

Elena tells him of the violent bloody images in her head, her tone cool and detached. She tells him how the brutality and carnage in her mind excites her, sometimes even arouses her.

Elijah calmly informs her that, if her fantasies ever come to life, she must let him watch.

He is not as unstable and bloodthirsty as Niklaus, he assures her, but they are predators, predators that are often compared to demons, and it is only natural that blood and sex and chaos comfortably walk hand in hand, something he finds himself reluctant to admit but does so all the same.

...

Rebekah returns home at three forty five. Elena is in the shower – again – and Elijah is fully dressed, as impeccably attired as he had been when he arrived. Rebekah dumps her school bag in the hall, calls up to Elena that she will be back late, and the two Originals leave the house.

Elena watches him leave from her window, curiously wondering why he had taken a full day out of his life just to spend it with her.

* * *

**Fin **


End file.
